


Vinegar

by musicprincess1990



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance, Sherlock Being Awestruck, Sherlolly Thought of the Day, molly being awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 05:03:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11844498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicprincess1990/pseuds/musicprincess1990
Summary: Inspired by this post by sherlollythoughtoftheday on Tumblr: "Molly beats Sherlock to a conclusion, prompting him to look at her in awe and abruptly kiss her."





	Vinegar

“Brought in this morning,” Molly announced, gesturing to the cadaver on the slab. Sherlock’s eyes scanned the body, taking in every detail. Though she had often been told by the detective that it was unnecessary, she began her typical brief introduction. “Died of asphyxiation, but no signs of struggle, no bruising at the neck or face, no evidence of rope burns… this man seems to have choked on air.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He donned a pair of rubber gloves and began his examination. For several minutes, he observed in silence, and Molly waited for his conclusion. When she saw the perplexed frown on his face as he straightened, she knew it would be more complicated than that.

“Not enough evidence,” he shook his head. “Need to get into his flat, hopefully Lestrade still has his effects. I’ll text you when I have something more concrete.”

Molly almost nodded her agreement, then thought of a better arrangement. “Why don’t I just come with you?”

He paused in the act of tying his scarf and blinked at her. “Don’t you have to stay?”

She arched a brow at him. “I’m lead pathologist and Mike’s favorite employee. I can do as I please. Besides,” she added, “my shift is almost over anyway.”

“Ah,” he smirked. “Well, then. Shall we?”

* * *

The man’s flat was moderately sized, comfortably furnished, and immaculate. Every surface had been meticulously and routinely cleaned. Even the carpet showed almost no signs of dirt or spills of any kind. _How did he keep his flat so clean?_  Sherlock wondered. _And more importantly, why?_

“God, I’ve never seen a cleaner place,” Molly observed aloud. Sherlock nodded once, continuing through the flat. He stopped in the living room, startled by a strange odor. It was faint, very easily missed or overlooked. Were it not for the obvious state of obsessive cleanliness in the rest of the place, he might have disregarded it himself, but as it was–

“Vinegar.”

Sherlock whirled around in surprise. “What?”

Molly’s eyes darted back and forth for a few moments, then met his. “The smell. It’s vinegar.” She stooped down, peering underneath the sofa. When she stood, she produced a souvenir shot glass, and held it to her nose. Her head jerked back and a brief look of disgust marred her features, soon replaced with one of understanding. “He drank a shot of straight vinegar, and choked on it. But… why?”

Sherlock stared as Molly puzzled over the vinegar shot, unable to draw any conclusions of his own. He could only gaze at her as she worried her thumb along the rim of the glass, the wheels in her head turning and turning…

“Oh!” she gasped suddenly. “His medical history mentioned some damage to his nervous system after an accident many years ago. He must have lost his sense of smell. And if I’m right…” she trailed off, moving toward the kitchen at speed. Sherlock blinked a few times, then followed her. He found her opening the cupboards, until she found an opened bottle of apple cider vinegar.

“Someone else must have been here,” she mused. “Someone who poured him a glass of this, told him it was whiskey, and he couldn’t smell it, so he just assumed… what is it?”

Sherlock was staring at her. She supposed that itself was no great surprise, but the way he was staring… as if he were dying of thirst, and she was a glass of wine.

Before she could ask again, he shot an arm around her waist and dove down to capture her mouth in a kiss. And _what a kiss!_ His hand at her waist fisted around the hem of her jumper, while the other sought refuge in her hair, loosening her ponytail in the process. His perfect lips teased hers open, and as he explored her mouth, she felt her knees buckle. She wound her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, matching his pace and eliciting a growl from deep in his throat.

Slowly, reluctantly, the kiss came to an end. Their lips parted and they stared at each other breathlessly. Sherlock spoke first, “Your, erm… your deductive skills are improving.”

Molly fought back a smile. “Thanks.”

Despite her (admittedly limited) efforts, Sherlock caught the smile, and one of his own spread across his face. “Perhaps we should discuss them further… at Baker Street.”

There was no hiding her answering grin. “I do believe you’re right, detective.”


End file.
